


Again and Again

by gyllnhls



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame, Brooklyn Boys, Captain America - Freeform, Howling Commandos - Freeform, I'm with you 'til the end of the line, Inspired by Icarus poetry, M/M, Nomad Steve Rogers, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, White Wolf Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyllnhls/pseuds/gyllnhls
Summary: In the aftermath of Avengers: Endgame, Steve and Bucky are finally, openly, madly in love. If only they had more time."In the name of pure loveHe gave everything he was."— Clairel Estevez





	Again and Again

Bucky cradled his pal's face and stroked at the dirty blonde hair.

It'd gotten longer since the end of the world, and Steve still looked all rugged and pretty; even with that waxy glaze over his baby blue eyes.

The first tendrils of fear tugged at his heart.

"I need you," Bucky cried. "Don't you dare do this to me, you idiot. I kept telling you to not do anything stupid when we were kids. That carries over a hundred years later, dumbass. I need you, Stevie. Don’t be an asshole.”

Steve's eyes softened and his lashes cast big shadows along his cheeks when he looked down. He sat up a little and managed to breathe out a raspy laugh.

"Buck, you have people here," Steve offered. "You've got lots of people here."

Steve lifted his hand towards Bucky, and they tangled their fingers together. Bucky had always admired Steve's pretty, delicate hands. They weren't created to be a soldier's. They were an artist's hands. That was God’s truth, if there was one. Always so careful and smooth. He loved when Steve's hands would slip through Bucky's. Steady. Steve's hands were stained with blood now.

"That's the thing," he rubbed at Steve's knuckles, "they ain't you. Nobody could replace you."

Steve joked, "Not even some dame?"

Bucky's chest tightened as he couldn't help but think of dark red lips that belonged to Agent Peggy Carter. The same Carter that made Steve’s world go round.

One night, after seeing Carter and Stevie all too friendly with each other, Bucky had wished his lips were plump and crimson just so Steve would kiss him like that and never stop.

He couldn't help this selfish envy he'd tucked away since the forties. They were supposed to be each other's forever. Bucky wasn't sure if his face fell, but he hoped Steve didn't notice.

 _Now is not the time for another Bucky Barnes sob story_ , he thought to himself. _Steve's heart's failing on him. Don't talk about your own damn heart_.

"There could never be some dame, some schmuck, or anyone else to replace a wonder boy like you," Bucky replied honestly.

Steve smiled quietly and all warm-like. "You're a damn sap, Barnes," he whispered. "Y'know that?"

Bucky sighed. "I've only ever used my best lines on you."

Steve swept a dreamy look at Bucky's hand wrapped in his own. Bucky wished they had more time.

A hundred-something years under the ice between the both of them, separated and alone and somehow they'd found each other again. And lost each other again. And found each other. And now they were about to lose each other once more and he knew nothing could prevent or postpone it from being permanent this time. The war was over. Steve had brought back Bucky and half the universe all because he was a stubborn little shit. Bucky almost wished he didn’t. He knew it was dumb of him but it was like some higher force didn’t ever want them together at the same time.

Steve jerked and turned his head, coughing into his shoulder. Blood trickled from his lips. He licked them distastefully.

"Bucky, this is—y'know I want you—I don't have lots of time,"

This was wrong. He was saying goodbye.

Steve continued with his eyes cast down, "Y'gotta—have to—oh, God. There's no one else in this godforsaken world I trust more than you. If someone's gotta take over the shield, y'know, don't feel obligated, but you deserve to wear the stripes more than an—"

Bucky blurted, "Oh, you are such an _idiot_. I don't want the  _shield_ , Steve, I want _you_! I've loved your pretty schmuck face and your stupid, impulsive, self-sacrificing ass since I met you. Don't give me the job. I told you no one could replace you and I meant it, Stevie. You're the only Captain America there should ever be. But honestly, who gives a shit about what happens to Cap?" Bucky paused, twiddling with Steve's delicate fingers. _Damn nerves_.

"I'm more concerned about what happens to Steve Rogers. Hell, I don't mean to sound like a sissy or some cheese. I’ve just been following my best friend through allies and wars for— _Christ_ —nearly a goddamn _century_ at this point, but who’s counting?”

Bucky noticed Steve had tears falling down the apples of his cheeks. The tears went through the dirt smudged all over his face and his nose was all rosy.

"Aw, fucks sake," Bucky swore. "Did I make you cry, Stevie? I'm sorry, I didn—"

Steve pulled Bucky's face towards his and kissed him sweetly. All Bucky tasted was the metallic flavor of blood and an undertone of something sugary. But it was Steve, and it was Bucky, and they were _kissing_. Bucky felt his eyes water. He'd dreamed of smooching Steve ever since they were teens, when they'd dangled their legs off the fire escape in the summer. He hated that he loved Steve with every bone in his body and yet Steve would look at the stars and Bucky would carefully look at him.

Bucky blinked and found they were both still kissing and crying like a pair of girls. He'd always wanted to know what those lips tasted like, but not like this. They parted lips, looking at each other.

"I'm tired, Buck," Steve mumbled, eyes fluttering open and closed. "I'm real tired. Never wanted it t'be like this, I just—"

He broke off, lips pursed. Bucky smoothed back Steve's hair. It was getting matted with blood now.

"Bucky. I'm—I'm scared."

Bucky stopped fiddling. All of a sudden he was nine and lanky, with a permanent smirk on his face, huddled up against a scrawny, pale boy with rheumy blue eyes suffering from a whole petri dish's worth of illnesses.

"Buck," Steve wheezed, sicker than an old dog, "Buck, I’m afraid. I don't wanna—if I don' make it, Ma'll need some help, an' y'gotta lean on each oth—"

Bucky had sworn he wouldn't let the damn winter take Steve, never ever, and if it tried to? It would have to get past mean ol' Bucky first. He'd protect Stevie from anything.

Turns out even the sergeant slash ex-assassin version of Bucky couldn't protect Steve from something like this; someone like Thanos. He would’ve liked to shove his rifle up the purple fucker’s nostrils and said _sayonara_ _you_ _piece_ _of_ _ugly_ _shit_ but the Avengers beat him to it.

His hands left Steve's and he clenched them into fists. He felt his nails digging into his palms until they pierced the skin and his eyes got all wet. 

"I told you that—that m'with you til the end, that I wouldn't let anyone get t'you," he snapped. "I'm so sorry, Steve. M'so, so fucking sorry I wasn't there like I promised. I don't care that I poofed into dust and got sucked up in a dimension, I should've been there. Don't you dare do that face like you wanna argue. This isn't some everyday rhubarb, you can't—"

"Stop, Buck. Just—take my hand like you used to do. Please."

Bucky slowly placed his hands around Steve's. He worried at the dirt and dried blood on Steve's fingers. No way he would last the night. The sun was already getting lost behind the clouds. Steve hadn't looked this small in a real long time.

Steve cut through the still air, "I loved you then, y'know? When my spine was all crooked and my lungs had that helluva rattle,"

Bucky let a lopsided grin escape. Somehow, it was simple when they were kids. Easy. They could hold hands and kiss and wrap their skinny arms around each other and no one would say a thing.

Steve continued, "I loved you when I found your drugged up and tortured ass at the P.O.W. camp. When us and the Commandos went on all those missions. And honestly, even when I loved Pegs.”

Bucky let a quiet gasp escape under his breath. Steve revolved around Carter like some planet. He’d follow her around like a dumb pup looking for scraps and Bucky would just sit there and glare at it all. Now Steve was saying Bucky was part of that?

"When you fell...Christ, my whole world fell apart. I thought I lost you, and—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—I lost myself. That's why I decided to go down on the plane. I couldn't—I just _couldn't_ , Bucky. Nothin' was worth it without you."

Bucky felt dizzy. Sick. He could’ve reeled right there. Steve had done that because of _him_?

"Steve, you don't have to. It's alright—"

"Let me finish. It's—just give me that, yeah?"

Steve swallowed on some more blood. The titan could pack a damn good punch with that gauntlet.

"When I woke up I was one lost son of a bitch. Thought some distractions would help, did some saving-the-world gigs, but it wasn't the same as having you here. And then you came back. Again and again. And Bucky, I love you now. Till the end of this stupid fucking line, and after. I'll love you, again and again."

Bucky clenched his jaw. He wanted to beat the ever-loving shit of Steve. Yell at him for sweeping Bucky off his fucking feet all the time. But all he really wanted to do was kiss him and hold him, never let him go. 

But as he licked his lips, Steve coughed again. The blood kept seeping out of all his wounds, dribbling down his chin, draining the color of his beautiful body. Some of the old blood was starting to coagulate, giving it a waxy appearance.

He tasted the acidic bile rising in his throat.

_No. Not now, not now, don't leave me now._

Their hands were wrapped in each others, sticky with blood, and for a fleeting moment Bucky couldn't tell whose hands were whose.

Steve grit his teeth against the pain and yelped, "Buck—Bucky, please don't leave me. Please, _please_ , I don' wanna be alone again. I don't wanna die like her, Buck."

 _Sarah_.

He didn't want to die like Sarah, alone with no one to comfort him. Like how he crashed the plane.

Bucky promised earnestly, "I'm right here, Steve. Til the end of the line, sunshine."

The blood looked black in the moonlight, and Bucky decided he hated the way the moon made Steve’s eyes look like these shiny saucers.

Steve's breaths quickened and he squeezed Bucky's hands against his chest with all his strength left, wheezing.

Captain America had been long gone. Maybe he went down with the plane back in the forties, and the one that showed up in the twenty-first century was no more than a ghost. America’s poster boy. It was Steve’s turn to die. Just a scrappy kid with too many scrapes and bruises.

Steve clenched his jaw. “Again and again.”

His heartbeat slowed under Bucky's hand and his eyes clouded over. His tears were falling on Steve's gray face. They ran like spilled ink down his grimy skin. 

_Jesus Christ._

"I'm right here, Stevie, I'll always be here. Til the end, again and again, remember? I love you endlessly."

Steve stopped shuddering and choking on his own blood. His artist hands slackened in Bucky's gentle hold, but Bucky wouldn't let go.

Bucky sobbed. "I gave you everything I was. So what the fuck am I without you, huh?"

His heart burned with desideratum.

The rising moon shone deep in Steve's blue eyes.

Bucky pried his hand away and closed Steve's eyes for him. The moon didn't deserve the beauty Steve's eyes gave off.

He felt fragile and hollow; plucked at and torn apart.

The dark sky didn't glow with any stars, as if without Steve Rogers there was no reason to shine.

Bucky crumbled like a dead flower onto Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Brooklyn Boys.
> 
> thank you for reading!  
> 


End file.
